


The Waiting Game

by nomelon



Category: Moonlight (TV)
Genre: Chair Sex, Desert, F/M, Handcuffs, Vampires, motel sex, overheated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-29
Updated: 2011-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-15 05:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomelon/pseuds/nomelon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped in a crappy hotel in the desert, there's nothing to do but wait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Waiting Game

His life is a giant vampire cliché. He's an Anne Rice novel, or worse, Stephenie Meyer. He curses the car rental place for the millionth time, earning himself little more than a raised eyebrow from Beth, but, seriously, leaving them stewing in a crappy desert motel for six goddamn hours in the middle of nowhere with the midday sun shining hotly outside, the ancient air-con unit making more noise than actual cool air, and no access to fresh blood is really just too much. Mick has been pacing up and down, chewing on his nails for longer than he cares to think about, and there's _still_ no sign of their replacement car.

Beth smirks and makes another call. He can hear every word of the conversation so doesn't need her to relay the information. It's going to be at least another two hours before they can get out of here. Mick kicks the bed, feeling petulant, and sends it skidding a few feet over the floor.

Beth sighs and stands up, turning off the TV and going to her purse, searching through it for something. Mick glares at the window, hating the pinch of pain as his pupils contract sharply at the sun sneaking around the edge of the blinds. When they get out of here, he's going to drink his bodyweight in blood, chilled, and then spend a lot of quality time in dark, locked in his freezer. Not forever, just six months or so. That sounds so incredibly good right now.

Beth clears her throat behind him, yanking him out of his daydreams. She's standing with her hand on one hip, her handcuffs (a recent acquistion) dangling at her side. "Sit," she says, gesturing to the sturdy wooden chair in the corner.

"Beth," he says, like he has one or two things that should really be explained in detail. "I really don't think that--"

" _Sit_ ," she says, her tone imperious.

Mick sits.

Beth cuffs one wrist behind him, then the other, the metal snug against his skin but not tight enough to hurt. Mick tests the strength of them when she's done. One good tug and he could break them, but that's clearly not what Beth wants, so he sits there, docile, and tries not to fidget.

"I can hear you thinking," she says. "All that pacing. You're making me dizzy."

It's hot enough out here that Beth is flushed pink and there's a light sheen of sweat on her skin. The scent of her -- clean sweat and strawberries -- has been driving him crazy for hours. He knows what she'd taste like on his tongue and he wonders what the game is here. Beth has always been very good at distracting him, after all.

She pulls her shirt over her head, not quite making a show of it, but slow enough that it's a tease, making him shift in his seat. She's already barefoot, so her jeans disappear next, pooling at her ankles only to be kicked away. She eases herself into his lap, her arms around his neck, moving in until she's up close and personal, all that damp skin pressed up against him, heat bleeding through the thin material of his shirt, making his mouth go dry, getting him hard and making his hips nudge up against her without thought. He only wants to be closer, only wants more of her. Beth smiles at the feel of him, her pupils wide and deep. She kisses him, teasing him with light touches when Mick is straining for more, the handcuffs clinking dully against wood behind him.

"Easy," she says, against his lips, unbuttoning his shirt in no apparent hurry. Her kisses are sweet and wet and open, making him pant for it and nip at her lips, a low growl in his throat when she doesn't pick up the pace, just kisses him over and over, getting her hands on his bare skin and driving him _insane_ with the way she touches him.

"Beth," he groans. "Beth, _please_."

She smiles again, clearly pleased with herself, and she slowly, slowly undoes his belt and tugs at his fly until the buttons pop open one by one. Mick leans back, lifting his hips for her, wanting his jeans gone, wanting skin on skin, wanting her so badly he can barely stand it. It's always like this with Beth. He wants her all the time; loves her so much that sometimes it scares him.

She eases back onto his lap, her thighs hot and a little tacky where their skin touches. He wants to be inside her so badly he can feel his gums itch, his fangs threatening to drop at the sensory overload, but she just rocks back and forth on him, not taking him inside, not yet, just getting him slippery and wet, making them both groan.

He pants into her mouth, his eyes screwed shut. "Don't tease me, baby, not now."

She moves her hips and she's got him so wet that he slides inside easily. The chain of the handcuffs snaps and he surges forward to take the weight of her, holding her close as he kisses her, hard and desperate, such incredible heat surrounding him it's like he's on fire. The chair screeches over the floor as they move, Beth's hands on his shoulders, her head thrown back, trusting him to hold them both up. Her body tenses, riding him as he fucks into her, until she comes with a cry, shuddering against him. The tight clench of her body pulls him over the edge with her. He thrusts half a dozen more times before he's coming deep inside her; his senses full of her, the way she feels against him, where she belongs, in his arms.

They trade soft kisses back and forth, Beth getting her breath back, Mick still inside her with no great plans to go anywhere.

Beth pulls back a little to look at him. "I've wanted to do that to you for hours."

Mick gazes up at her, blinking, completely besotted, not to mention bleary and fucked out, but the way she's moving on him feels pretty amazing, and maybe if she gives him a couple of minutes he'll be ready to go again. "Next time," he says, licking his lips and tasting her there, "don't wait so long."

**Author's Note:**

> <http://nomelon.livejournal.com/201291.html>


End file.
